His shirt was off, per usual. His chest glistened with sweat, evidence of a good 20-minutes-worth of being truly hardcore. He reeked of punk rock and repressed anger. He stared at me with the intensity of 1000 grindcore LPs being played — at the same time. He spoke.
“I just went hard in the pit. Now I’m going to go hard in you.”

And then, my last job was at a Taco Bell Express, but then it became a full-time Taco Bell and… i dunno. I couldn’t keep up. // +goth clubs+